The Beginnings of a Dream
by Deep Forest Green
Summary: Just a short little oneshot about Fantine's childhood.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to Les Miserables. I may, however, own this particular headcanon about Fantine's childhood. **

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**1804**

Everyone in the poor section of Montreuil-sur-Mer - that is to say, the poorest section - knew little Fantine. They knew that she had no living relative to care for her. In light of this fact, an old seamstress took her in one day and took her on as an apprentice. The woman had ten or twenty other girls also working for her, between the ages of eight and sixteen; and she ran what could almost be called a small workhouse. Everyone said what a kind, Christian woman she must be for taking in all those orphan children, but the truth was that she was doing both herself and the town a bit of a favor. Nobody wanted orphan children running around picking purses, and having them learn a trade both kept them off the streets with food in their bellies and put more silver in the pockets of the elderly seamstress.

"If there is one thing you must learn before you grow up, my dears, it is needlework," the old woman told her proteges. "It is the most valuable skill a woman can have. You must learn how to make and repair all manner of clothing, for yourself and for others. When it comes time for you to marry, it will greatly increase your prospects for a good husband. And when you have children, you must be able to make new garments for them every year as they grow up; as well as for the children of the family you serve, if you are lucky enough to go into service. Needlework, girls. Learn it young, and never forget it."

Fantine didn't have much free time, but every Sunday after mass, she and the other girls would have a few hours to go into town and spend what little cash they had earned on whatever knickknacks they liked. Most of the girls liked the candy and toy animals, keeping their candles burning late at night to compare what they had bought and share it with their friends. As Fantine passed by the shops, she stared in the windows and stared at the jewelry on display. These moments were happy for her, but also sad; because she knew that even if she saved up her earnings for months, she could never afford the jewelry herself.

Fantine loved every shape, size, type and color of jewelry, but her very favorite was the black glass. It was just so shiny, sophisticated, refined. Fantine thought that any woman who could afford such a necklace must be rich indeed. She dreamed of wearing a fine silk dress adorned with a long, elegant onyx rosary, and having all the other girls stare at her with envy as she walked slowly down the velvet-carpeted stairs, like a countess or even queen.

One day, Fantine caught the old woman's eye and dared to ask her a question. "Madame?" she said. "I know sewing is all well and good, it's important, and I don't mean to be ungrateful, but it's a bit... ordinary. You know what I mean? It's boring. Couldn't I learn something else instead?"

"Like what?" the old woman snapped, losing her temper. "Cooking? Cleaning? Midwifery? Sewing is all I know how to do, and you're lucky I even taught you how to do that, you little street rat. Doubt if you'll ever find a job, despite what I've taught you. You're an orphan and you've got no common sense. What is this lofty aspiration of yours, anyway?"

"I want to make jewelry," Fantine said wistfully. "I want to learn how to make black glass."

The old woman laughed. "You want to spend all day in a burning furnace, blowing into a tube until your lips turn black? You know you'd never be able to afford anything you made."

"But it's so beautiful," Fantine said sadly, still holding on to her dream and not caring how idiotic it sounded. "I don't want to make the actual glass. I just want to string the beads onto the bracelets and necklaces."

The woman scoffed. "Anyone can do that," she said. "You don't need any special skills for it."

Fantine's face lit up. "So then maybe there's a chance for me!"

The woman frowned and shook her head. "All the black glass is made far away from here," she said. "Norway jet. Nobody in this town has money for jewelry anymore. They just send it here to mock our poverty. This town used to be the number one glass manufacturing center in France, but the town dried up when the industry left for Paris. I doubt anyone will try to revive it again."

"Then I will!" Fantine declared.

The woman chuckled. "You? That's a joke. An illegitimate little girl reviving an entire industry in a dying village? Right. Or maybe a handsome, mysterious stranger will ride into town one day and save us all, like a knight in shining armor from a fairy tale." She clucked and raised her arms at the ridiculousness of it.

Fantine pressed her nose against the small glass window in the shop. "Well," she said, "if there's no glass industry here, I'll just have to go to Paris."

"If you go to Paris, your future is as a seamstress, dearie," said the woman flatly. "Same as it is here."

Fantine looked at her pile of clothing with disgust. "Someday I'll have a necklace to wear with all these dresses," she said, fingering the fabric. "A long necklace with many layers, one that goes down all the way to my hips."

The old woman nodded. "Just keep dreaming, sweetheart."


End file.
